


Under the Heart Tree

by nellymaree



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Comfort, Compliant to season 7, F/M, Freeform, Implied Future Jon/Sansa, Jon Snow - Freeform, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen mentioned - Freeform, Jon and Sansa bond, Jon deals with parentage reveal, Minor Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, One Shot, POV Sansa, R Plus L Equals J, Sansa Stark - Freeform, Sansa comforts Jon, Stark Family, Starklings, TV Show Universe, set after season7, subtle hints to Jon/Sansa, you can view their relationship how you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellymaree/pseuds/nellymaree
Summary: After Jon's true parentage is revealed, Sansa seeks Jon out to comfort him.





	Under the Heart Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theSarcasticWench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSarcasticWench/gifts).



> This is the first piece of writing I've shared in several years. It is also my first ever Game of Thrones fic! The following is unedited. Grammar is not my strong point, so I apologise for any errors. I wanted this story to sort of mirror Cat's first chapter in A Game of Thrones book. Any similarities you see to that chapter are intentional... But are also a pale imitation of George R R Martin's genius.

Sansa had always liked this Godswood.  
  
Unlike her Father and siblings, she hadn’t kept to the Old Gods. Her beliefs as a child had been purely Tully.  
  
As a girl, she’d worshiped in the Sept and had prayed only to the Seven.  Yet, unlike her Lady Mother, she’d never felt a stranger within these woods. The blood of the first men flowed through her veins and had called to her... Leading her often to the Godswood, a place where the Old Gods were said to frequent.  
  
She’d devoted many hours walking along the dark grounds, lost in her own little world. The woods that surrounded Winterfell were completely different from other Godswood in Westeros.  
  
Dark and ancient, they had remained untouched for thousands of years. The primal, untamed, quality of the woods had been alluring to Sansa.  The weirwood trees with their white bark and vibrant red leaves had been beautiful to her.  
  
 The most fascinating aspect of the Godswood, however, was **‘ The Heart Tree’**.  
  
Tall and intimidating, it was by far the largest tree. It had a smiling face carved into the trunk... The meaning of which she had long forgotten. Lord Eddard Stark had often found solace under the tree.  Praying to the Old Gods for guidance and forgiveness…  
  
Now, all these years later, Sansa found solace underneath the same branches. Her belief in  Gods (old or new), had diminished completely over the years. But the Godswood remained a sanctuary to her nonetheless. A place of familiarity and strength. The one place she felt closest to her Father.  
  
Lord Eddard Stark might have been dead, but his presence was keenly felt within these woods.  
  
Which was why the Godswood was the first place she looked for Jon that day.  
  
Since reclaiming Winterfell, the former King had avoided the Godswood.   His focus had been solely on the threat beyond the wall. Though Sansa sensed it went deeper than that-  like her, Jon no longer believed in any Gods. His own death had ensured that any faith he’d had prior, was gone.  
  
It usually would have been the last place one would expect to find Jon Snow.  But Sansa, despite rumors to the contrary, knew her brother. Where else would he go, after finding out he was no longer Eddard Stark's son?  
  
Sure enough, as she drew closer to **the Heart Tree** , she saw the brooding figure of Jon. Perched on the rock underneath the tree, his dark head was decorated in tiny snowflakes. The cold had made his face flushed and pink.  
  
On his lap lay his sword, Longclaw, which he was sharpening with a small grey rock.  Ghost lay on the ground by his feet, still and silent.  The wolf’s head rose as she approached, blinking at her…but he did not move.  Determined to remain by Jon’s side.  
  
For a moment, all Sansa could do was stand and stare. A memory from long ago had resurfaced. The image of her Father sitting under the same tree, during the long Summer... Cleaning his greatsword Ice, as he hummed a tune Old Nan used to sing.  
  
The memory was almost identical to the scene she was currently viewing. Only it was Winter, now. And Jon was not humming, but scowling as he moved the small rock up and down the blade.  
  
Still, the resemblance between the pair had never been plainer. A heavy sadness threatened to engulf Sansa, as she hesitantly resumed her pace.  
  
_“Jon,_ ” she called, as she drew closer to him. Her words barely above a whisper, but she knew he had heard. For his back and shoulders stiffened the moment she called his name. He did not deign to look at her.  
  
“Sansa,” he greeted, his tone low and formal. A stark contrast to their usual rapport. He seemed preoccupied with sharpening his blade, but Sansa knew it was all a show.  
  
“Bran told you then,” he said, at last, his tone still distant.  
  
“Sam, actually,” Sansa corrected her tone light. Jon grunted.  
  
“Where are the others?” He asked, still not looking at her.  
  
Despite herself, Sansa felt her heart sink a little. She knew he was really asking where Arya and Daenerys were…  
  
Sansa tried to push the feeling aside. It was only natural that he should wonder after the two he was closest too...  She could not help but feel slightly displaced, however.  
  
Over the last two years, she and Jon had been the only Stark's. Eachothers only family… She had gotten used to being the most important person in his life, and vice versa.  Now she would have to share him once more, and it would take some adjusting.  
  
She cleared her throat, trying to shake away these thoughts and feelings. “Arya is training with Lady Mormont. She wanted to come… But I convinced her otherwise…”  
  
It hadn’t been an easy task, and Sansa was beginning to doubt if it had been the right decision.  Arya and Jon had been the closest of all the siblings. She had always been able to make Jon smile. Even when he was standing in the shadows, brooding.  It had been a source of both admiration and envy to the younger Sansa.  
  
Yet, even with this knowledge... Some instinct had whispered that it had to be Sansa- and Sansa alone- to talk with Jon right now.    
  
Sansa saw the corner of Jon’s lips flick upward a little. “I bet she didn’t like that,” he said, still not looking at her.    
  
She smiled ruefully. “I’d repeat the words she said… But they weren’t exactly ladylike.”  
  
Jon gave a reluctant low chuckle.  The sound warmed Sansa against the bitter cold.  
  
“The others… “ Sansa continued, her voice stronger now. “Sam and Bran are currently working together on… Well, something important. The Lords are all speaking in the Great Hall. Tyrion is complaining about the lack of wine -” Jon’s smile widened. “And… Queen Daenerys has gone for a ride on one of her bea- her dragons. The big one… Dregon?”  
  
“Drogon,” Jon corrected, his smile gone now, the brooding look had returned.  
  
A silence stretched between them then, awkward and long.  Sansa hovered for a moment, wrapping her cloak around her tightly. Eventually, the silence became too much for her to bear and she broke it.  
  
“H-How are you?” Sansa asked clumsily.  
  
He paused his movements, to throw her a dry look. “Fantastic,” he replied with an equally dry tone. Sansa felt a small smile go across her lips, despite herself.  
  
Jon had never been completely open with his emotions. It would take a bit of wheedling...  
  
Sansa gave a sympathetic ‘hum’ noise and moved to sit next to him. He scooted to the side, ensuring she had enough room, placing Longclaw behind them.  
  
Ghost stood and put his head on Sansa’s lap, expectant for a pat. The pair had grown close during Jon’s absence. The direwolf often slept with her during the night.  
  
She smiled and stroked Ghost's white fur.  Sansa glanced at Jon who was watching them, an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
The earlier silence returned. She looked at him in an expectant manner, determined not to be the one to break it this time. Jon yielded.  
  
“Well, I always said I was not a Stark,” he said looking away from them and into the distance. A rueful smile played across his lips, as it always did when he said those words… But his eyes were pained. Morose.  
  
Sansa reached out to touch his arm, her brow furrowing with concern. “You _are_ a Stark,” She said her tone firm.  
  
He appeared startled at her contact, looking from where her hand lay and back to her face.  He did not attempt to move out of her grasp, however.  
  
“I’m not,” he denied, shaking his dark head, the rueful smile still upon his lips. It seemed more strained now.  
  
“You are!” Sansa insisted, a wild anger seizing her. She could not say where it rightly came from, only that it now consumed her like wildfire. She stared at Jon, unblinkingly.  
  
“You are a Stark of Winterfell. You will _always_ ****be a Stark of Winterfell. I don’t care who sired you… You’re… You’re Father's son, through and through.”  
  
Jon looked at her for several moments, studying her expression… Searching for something. Sansa did not know what he was looking for, but he must have found it. For he placed his other hand on her own.  
  
“Thank you, Sansa,” he said, his voice filled with surprise. As though he had not expected her to say that.  
  
A companionable silence fell between them once more. Filled only by Ghost scratching himself.  They sat there for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.    
  
After a few minutes, Jon spoke again.  
  
“I cannot forget what I’ve learned, nor I cannot forget who I am,” Jon spoke, his words measured and calm.  He appeared more at peace now. His hand was still over hers.  “ I am a Northerner, through and through. And I'm proud to be one... As a boy, I wanted to be a real Stark…”  

He hurriedly continued on, as she opened her mouth to argue he had been.

  
“I don't need to choose between being Targaryen or Stark.  I know that…But I can’t help feeling as though everything in my life has been a lie.”  
  
Sansa closed her mouth and threw him a sympathetic look. She could not imagine how it felt. She was proud to be a Stark, the daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. The blood of Winterfell. If she found out tomorrow she was not that, it would feel… Feel as though she had lost a part of herself. A part of her history.  
  
Jon gave a deep sigh. “ In the end, it doesn’t matter what I am. Stark… Targaryen… Snow. The Dead are coming. We are at war. I know there are bigger things at play right now….”  
  
There was still a troubled glint in his eyes.  
  
“You worry about Daenerys,” Sansa guessed. “You’re her family too, now… You- you love her.”  
  
She did not mean just familial love, and he knew it.  
  
“Yes,” Jon admitted, and for some reason, he could not meet Sansa’s gaze. Shamed, once more. “I love her.”  
  
A flicker of something, an undefinable emotion, went through Sansa at those words. She’d suspected as much, and yet… Hearing them from his own mouth…  
  
“War puts things in perspective,” Sansa began, her words measured and careful. “Life is fleeting, and loss can occur at any moment… As well we know.”  She gave him a pointed look.  
  
_Father, Mother, Robb, Rickon,_ **_Lady_ ** … They all came to mind instantly.  Each gone before their time…  
  
Victims of a war that was nothing compared to the one coming.  
  
“To find any bit of happiness, no matter the source… Is nothing short of a miracle. Especially in these times… Tomorrow we might be gone. But today… Today you can seize the moment.”  
  
Sansa averted her gaze, suddenly unable to meet his stare as she said her next words...  
  
“ There are worse crimes to be had than loving someone.”  
  
Jon looked at her with something akin to admiration and surprise. Sansa had surprised herself. Until that moment she had not realized her own sentiments on the subject… But the words were true and she meant them.  
  
Happiness had evaded her for a long time. The small amount of happiness she had, resided in her family by her side once more. She would cling to that, _them_ , tightly.    
  
The threat of impending doom made certain things obsolete.  If Jon had truly found love with the Targaryen Queen… Then why shouldn’t he be allowed to love her freely?  It was not the same as Cersei and Jaime Lannister… Not in Sansa’s eyes.  
  
Besides...Targaryens had wed their own kin for centuries. Though Sansa refrained from saying this last thought aloud. She doubted that Jon would draw comfort from it.  
  
“I thought you didn’t like her,” he said, his tone lighter than before.  
  
“I don’t,” Sansa conceded, deciding that it was better to be honest. “But if she is important to you… I’ll try.”  
  
It was no small concession and Jon knew it. He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the leather of her glove.  
  
“I missed you,” Jon said. He gave one of his half smiles, the sort that warmed her heart and made her feel safe.  Sansa could not help but smile in return.  
  
“I missed you too,” she replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
